Heist Society
by Lady Wrenegade
Summary: Tris is a member of Dauntless—a heist society that robs the rich. When her next target is the mysterious Lord Four, Tris must catch the eye of the most eligible bachelor in London and steal his heart, but she didn't count on him stealing hers. AU Victorian Era.
1. The Beginning of the Heist

**AN: Hello again! This plot bunny has been jumping around my head for ages now, demanding to be written and so finally, here it is! This is going to be set in the Victorian Era because it's my favourite era (I just love all the pretty dresses and fancy balls) and I hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Divergent Trilogy by Veronica Roth or its characters (though I wish I did—I so want Four to be mine).**

* * *

**Chapter 1 — The Beginning of the Heist**

**Tris POV**

Christina curls my hair and pulls it back in a low elegant bun. Loose pieces of hair frame my face and she applies a light coat of makeup.

"Now we need to catch his attention." She murmurs handing me a dark blue ball gown with lace sleeves and a white sash.

"This is a really bad idea." I say.

"Which part of the idea? Conning your way into a ball where all the élite lords and ladies sip wine and eat caviar? Or trying to charm the coldest, richest lord so that we can pull off a huge theft in order to gain access to his fortune?"

"Both." I wince as she tightens the laces on my dress. Despite her brutal honesty, Christina and I have been friends ever since we met on the street nearly ten years ago. When we were recruited by Dauntless, the brilliant group of criminals who rob the rich and famous, we helped each other through initiation and we _always_ have each other's backs.

We also are usually partners in crime. We've been taught to charm the men and then steal their fortune. After every crime we commit, we always have one question: who is our next target?

Right now it's Tobias "Four" Eaton, the lord of Eaton Abbey. He was born in Chicago and he owns a massive railway company that brings in millions of dollars each year and coupled with his equally large inheritance from his English father, it makes him one of the richest men in the world.

Max, the leader of Dauntless, was practically drooling as he listed Four's accomplishments.

I shuffle through the papers on my desk. They contain every tidbit of known information on Four's life. I need to know everything about this man, but unfortunately, he's a bit of a mystery.

Christina smiles reassuringly. "Relax. This is going to be fun."

"What's going to be fun?" Our friend Will pokes his head into the room.

"Will! This is our room!" Christina screeches, throwing her shoe at his head. He ducks easily, grins and stretches down on Christina's bed. She scowls, but I can tell that she's secretly pleased; she's fancied him for ages, but she'll never admit it.

"Twirl for me Tris." He drawls, waving his hand. I twirl and the dark blue skirt flares around me and makes a soft rustling sound.

"Beautiful. I must say Christina, you certainly know how to dress her."

"I do try." Christina rolls her eyes and hands me a silk wrap. "I think we're ready Tris."

Will frowns, "how are you going to get out of compound?" The Dauntless headquarters are located deep underground and the easiest way out is to walk along the narrow pathways in the Pit wall.

"We'll climb out. Just like we'll jump into the net when we get back."

"Our dresses are going to be ruined." I say.

"And if you succeed with Lord Eaton we can buy new dresses."

"I'll come with you." Will sits up and follows us out of our room.

"Not all the way." Christina scowls.

"Relax." He says, repeating her earlier words.

We begin to walk on the narrow pathways and Will silently follows us. As we step into the cold air outside, we can hear the distant sound of the train. Will bows. "Good luck, my beautiful ladies."

"Goodbye Will. Now go inside before we have to run for the train."

"Why?"

"Because have to hike our skirts up so we can run, that's why." Christina snaps.

"So you're saying I could get a glimpse of your knickers?"

"Not mine." I say, "I'm wearing trousers underneath my skirt."

"Tris!"

"What?" The train comes closer and I change the subject. "We need to go now!" Will smiles and gives us another bow. Christina waits until he's disappeared before we pull up our skirts, take off our shoes and begin to run. We swing ourselves on the train with a bit of difficulty and crouch against the wall.

We wait until the train moves into the classier parts of London before we hop off. I pull on my shoes and Christina does the same. She fixes my hair and we walk towards the imposing building. I can hear faint strains of music drifting into the street and I clutch our fake, but very realistic-looking invitations in my gloved hand. Before we enter, Christina turns to look me in the eye.

"It's show time." She says.

The doorman gives us appraising looks as we pass him and I realize that we don't look like street urchins—we look like ladies. Though the thought is comforting, I still can't help but nervously fidget with the hems of my gloves. Our heels click on the marble floors and I'm so used to the dim underground lights of the compound that the bright chandeliers nearly blind me.

Christina picks up two flutes of champagne from a nearby waiter and we continue to walk around the room.

"There he is." Christina nods towards three gentlemen standing in the corner, away from the rest of the dancers. Four is easy to distinguish because I've spent many hours memorizing his face. The other two men are both dark-skinned and muscular. "They are the lords Uriah and Zeke. They're brothers and friends of Four." Christina says. We move closer and I can catch parts of their conversation.

"I love this time of year!" Zeke exclaims.

"I think I love it more." Uriah says, adjusting his jacket. "What about you Four?"

Four grimaces, "I'd rather be back home."

"I can't imagine why. You're the most eligible bachelor. Don't you just love to be swarmed by young and beautiful debutantes looking for a wealthy husband?"

"No."

Zeke looks over at his brother, ""Uri, I think our dear friend needs to find a wife."

"Yes, I agree. Uriah says wickedly, "He needs someone to waste that all of his money on the latest fashions from Paris. How else will he use up that huge fortune?"

Four begins to back up slowly as the other two begin to list off all the attractive ladies in the ballroom. I realize too late that his broad back is making a direct path for me. We collide and I stumble, sending my drink flying out of my hands and shattering when it hits the floor. I fall and land on my side with an unladylike "oomph!"

"Well done Four!" Uriah's voice is sarcastic as he walks over to help me to my feet. "My name is Uriah and the man who just sent you flying is Lord Four Eaton and he owes you a dance Lady . . . ?"

"Beatrice." I mumble.

Uriah places my hand in Four's unwilling one and leaves. He huffs and I look uncertainly into his deep blue eyes. "Would you like to dance Lady Beatrice?"

* * *

**AN: What did you think of the first chapter? Let me know! If you have any ideas about this story, concerns about where I've been historically inaccurate or ideas for a different title (I know the Heist Society is the title of a book by Ally Carter), please feel free to PM me!**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	2. The Weather in London

**Chapter 2 — The Weather in London **

**Tris POV**

Four doesn't talk as we dance. He barely looks at me and he keeps his face unreadable and smooth. The dance is slow, which only adds to the discomfort—there is no switching partners for this dance and I'm forced to talk to this unfriendly stranger.

"Is there a reason you don't use your given name?" I ask. It's the wrong thing to say, he stiffens and looks even more uncomfortable.

"Perhaps, but I don't feel inclined to share." His voice is cold. I can see Christina watching us out of the corner of my eye—she looks as worried as I feel.

"The weather in London is quite fine this spring." I blurt—and cringe in embarrassment when he stares at me in irritation. Of all the silly things I could've chosen to speak of I chose the _weather._ Never mind that I've spent over half of my life training how to be a pseudo socialite, schooled in the art of conversation and dancing (though I'm a terrible dancer).

"Yes," he replies dryly. "I think it's really fascinating how winter is cold and then spring is warm and lovely."

I grit my teeth, "I think spring is a necessity for all debutantes. How else will all of London's finest and freshest display their pretty dresses and expensive jewels for eligible bachelors without being hindered by cloaks?"

"You don't wear any jewels."

"I'm surprised you noticed. You seem quite happy to look straight over my head and pretend that I don't exist." The corner of his mouth twitches, but then he quickly rearranges his features into indifference.

"That's hard to do. Seeing as I'm dancing with you."

"I never said that you weren't good at ignoring me _and_ being able to dance without stepping on my feet." I snap.

This time he does smile. "No, but you're doing an excellent job of stepping on mine." My jaw clamps shut and I regret all the hours that I've wasted sparring with Will when I could've been learning how to dance so I wouldn't have to embarrass myself. "Perhaps . . . perhaps I have better things to do then to practice how to move my feet in time to music."

"Like walking into my path so that I have no choice but to dance with you?"

"You walked into me!"

"I was trying to avoid being forced into dancing with young girls who are after my fortune."

"I see you don't hold debutante balls—or debutantes—in high regard." I say.

"Obviously."

The dance ends and Four releases my hands quickly. As he bows, his lips brush my ear. "Dark blue isn't the colour that most _debutantes _would wear, Lady Beatrice."

Then, he walks away. "Did you like her?" I hear Uriah ask.

"She's quite vexing." Four says.

Christina links her arm with mine. "I think he liked you." She whispers.

"He called me vexing. And he complained about the colour of my dress."

"What a—" she says angrily which causes a few people to stare at her. She lowers her voice. "How dare he!"

"Let's just leave. I want to get out of this dress." I scratch at my arm, trying to rid myself of the itchiness. I glance around at the ballroom one more time and my eyes meet Four's. We stare at each other for a minute until Christina tugs on my arm. He looks away.

* * *

"Tris, wake up." Will shakes my shoulder and I moan in response, burying my head into my pillow.

"Will? What are you doing in our room?" I can hear Christina fumbling around the room, searching for her robe.

"Max wants to see you two." Suddenly I'm awake, reaching for my black trousers and shirt. Christina does the same. "I'll wait for you outside." Will says.

In less than five minutes we're in Max's office, wiping the sleep from our eyes and straightening our rumpled clothes. When he sees us, he smiles.

"I see you enjoyed your night out. Tell me Tris, how did you like Four?"

"He's quite vexing," I say, repeating Four's words. "And he's cold and guarded. I didn't know what to say when I was with him."

"Yes." Max agrees thoughtfully. "He doesn't trust easily. But that's your job Tris and yours too Christina."

"But how?" I ask.

"Trail him. You say that you don't know what to discuss when you're with him. Well, eavesdrop and find out what he likes, how he acts and how he reacts. Even though our dear Four is guarded, he can't hide everything about himself."

"Yes, Max."

"Good. Because I think you know the consequences if you don't succeed Tris." Members of Dauntless who fail to complete their tasks are left to fend for themselves on the street. Christina and I have never had to worry about that . . . until now.

**Four POV**

"You liked her." Uriah insists.

"No I didn't."

Zeke snorts, "she made you smile."

"I found her bad manners amusing." I reply as we climb out of our carriage and walk down a quiet side street. "She was unlike other girls. Lady Beatrice wore the wrong colours for a debutante ball, she didn't wear jewelry and she was a terrible dancer."

"She broke the rules and you liked that." Zeke says. I stay quiet because I did admire her—but only slightly—because everything from her oddly coloured dress to the way the she didn't seem perturbed by my coldness was different.

"She wasn't as pretty as the other girls." Uriah notes before looking back over his shoulder. "This is getting ridiculous." He mutters, "we can't walk anywhere without being followed by urchins begging for money." I turn to see a slim beggar in ragged black clothing trailing us.

"Make it go away." Zeke mumbles. He's hated urchins ever since one killed his fiancé.

I push him in front of me. "Keep walking." I wait until the boy is close to me. He's a clever thing, making it seem like he's scavenging for food in the garbage bins instead of following us.

I feel a wave of pity for him—his life is hard and I remember how easily my life could've been like this lad's. It's hard to life a life without love, but it's more difficult to live one without dignity.

I glance over my shoulder—Uriah and Zeke are waiting at the corner of the street. "Don't follow us again." I say, pressing a few coins into his chapped palm. He looks up at me from under his black cap in surprise. His blue eyes are much like the lady from last night and I'm reminded of the way she looked at me before she left. They were so full of anger, resentment and embarrassment.

"Thank you, sir. No I won't, sir." He says, huskily, but his voice is strangely feminine.

I walk away, ignoring my friends' stares, feeling a slight twinge of regret for _something_.

I just don't want to think about what.

* * *

**Thank you to 4ever-twilight101, CateCassidy, DistrictFactionCaster12, IoanaLola, Mistyfur of ThunderClan, Sandprints, cheatedwithmy360, CaptBearHugs, Divergent1315, Divergentlesslover, LegendLover94, MysticxVamp, Redpandatails and xxfluffedxx for following and/or favouriting! And thank you to Sandprints, Guest, LegendLover94, CateCassidy, Guest, Divergent1315 and DistrictFactionCaster12 for reviewing!**

**I was seriously blown away by the response to the first chapter and now I'm totally excited to post the second chapter! **

**Have a nice day/evening!**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	3. Reasons to Not Frequent Millennium Park

**Chapter 3 — Reasons to Not Frequent Millennium Park**

**Tris POV**

I stare at the coins nestled in my palm. I didn't think that Four had it in him, to have compassion for the lesser, to give a poor urchin money. And yet here I am, staring at the proof. Had there been pity in his eyes when he had looked at me? I'm sure of it. But luckily, there was no flash of recognition. If there had been, all would be lost.

I look up in time to see the end of his cloak disappear around the corner of a building and realization hits me. If he's heading where I think he is, then I might be able to achieve something. I turn into an alleyway and begin to sprint towards the compound. I might only have thirty minutes to get ready, but if I hurry, I can do it. My legs ache and my lungs burn as I cut across streets and alleys before throwing myself on a train. I get five minutes to calm my breathing before I jump on the roof of headquarters and into the net.

"Christina!" I yell over the noise of the Pit. I shoulder past people and ignore their protests. "Christina!"

"She's in your room." My friend, Al stands in front of me, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"Thanks," I gasp as an idea begins to form in my head. "Can you come with me? I need you for something." He shrugs and follows me.

Christina and Will are sitting on her bed, talking. I wonder if they notice that their faces are only inches from each other. "Christina I need you to help me!" They spring apart, guiltily. "Four's heading towards Millennium Park."

A smile flits across her face as she realizes what this means. "I'm sorry," Will says. "But what are we missing?" I explain my plan and they begin to laugh.

"Do you think it will work?" Al asks.

"Wait and see." I shrug. "You might want to make yourselves look more like ruffians. We'll meet you in the Pit."

* * *

I ignore the looks that my dress—a dainty sky blue number—receives. I hear wolf whistles and I blush. In the pale blue that's striking against the sea of black clothing, I can't help but stand out. Christina and I walk over to where Will and Al are standing, dressed in ragged black shorts and grimy boots. Their faces are smeared with food and dirt. We leave the compound and jump on another train. I sigh, envious of everyone. Will and Al are wearing pants which makes it easy for them to climb on the train and Christina appears to have mastered the art of jumping in a dress, while I'm still clumsy in the long skirt.

As we walk down the path that leads to Millennium Park, the boys melt into the trees. "Remember the plan." I whisper.

Christina and I link arms as I spot Four's broad back. We dart ahead so that we are walking directly in front of them.

Suddenly, I feel a large and menacing presence beside me. "Hello, miss." The man says coldly. "That's a lovely reticule you have there. Got anything good?"

"No." I reply just as coldly, suppressing a snort of laughter at Al's disguised voice.

"I think you do." Al begins to paw at my waist.

"Leave me alone, you ruffian!" I shriek batting his hands away and slamming the heel of my shoe into his foot, softening the blow at the last second so that it doesn't hurt quite as much. I pray that Al is a good actor. Fortunately for me, he is. And I nearly burst out laughing as Al grabs his foot and howls in agony. Beside me, Christina cries out as Will tries to drag her away.

"Leave the ladies alone!" Four's voice cuts through the commotion and Will and Al immediately flee. I rush over to where Chris slumps on the ground.

"Are you alright?" Four's voice startles me, and this time, I can see the flash of recognition. "Lady Beatrice?" He chokes out.

"Yes my lord." I curtsy.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course she's alright." Uriah interjects, "did you see how she fought against those ruffians?"

Four nods and I can see admiration flash briefly across his face. He exchanges a look with Zeke. "Would you care to walk with me Lady Beatrice."

"That would be lovely." I say, placing my hand in the crook of his elbow. Christina's face brightens as Uriah offers her his arm. As we wander towards the park, many other couples stare at us. Four is easily recognizable—who wouldn't recognize one of the richest men in England?

"Why are they looking at us?" Four murmurs in my ear. To an outsider who can't hear our conversation, it looks terrible intimate, and I begin to laugh.

"My lord, do you frequent London?"

"No," he says, clearly bewildered

Millennium Park is beautiful with lush green lawns and thick groves of trees. It's also where the young—and in love—couples like to frequent. Four has unknowingly walked through a notoriously romantic park with a lady. I can only imagine the rumours that will soon fly.

Four is still staring at me, so I answer his question.

And the look on his face is priceless.

**Four POV**

"A romantic park?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes."

"And you didn't think it was important information?"

"Are you so afraid to be seen with a lady?" She counters. I sigh loudly and move to yank my arm from her grasp, but she hangs on with surprising strength. "If you walk away now, people will see, and unmarried girls will swarm you, determined to succeed where I could not."

"So you are looking for a husband!"

"I said no such thing!" she snaps. "I'm simply trying to help you from ruining your reputation."

"You shouldn't care about such things. You are not my keeper."

"Perhaps I care more about myself." Lady Beatrice says coldly. "This might be damaging for my reputation, you know."

"You're appealing to my chivalrous side. That's a very dastardly move."

"You don't have a chivalrous side. You are unkind."

I turn to look directly into her large blue eyes and I can see the hurt in her eyes again. "I apologize for my behavior. It was rude of me."

She nods curtly and we walk through the trees in uncomfortable silence. Without looking, I can tell that we are being watched—and I hate it. I would rather be in the country. There is no privacy in London. "I didn't intend to force you to walk with me." Her voice is quiet and even.

"I do not mind."

"Where you planning to walk through Millennium Park with your friends?"

"We were heading in that direction, yes."

"I thought the lords Uriah and Zeke would know London better than that." She says thoughtfully. "One avoids Millennium Park at all costs if they don't wish to be the subject of gossip."

"Knowing them, they probably thought it would be an entertaining joke."

"They sound lovely, my lord."

"If you like to be publicly humiliated frequently." I mutter. One time Uriah stuck a sign to my back during a foxhunt . . . and I couldn't sit down for a week. It seems that other men my age enjoy acting like little boys when someone unknowingly walks around with a "kick me" sign on his back.

"Pardon?" Her voice startles me from my thoughts and I realize that I've been muttering to myself.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"How long are you in London?" She asks, changing the subject.

"For far too long. I leave for my estate in a fortnight."

"Four!" Uriah calls, with Lady Beatrice's friend on his arm. "Did you enjoy your walk?" He's grinning broadly and I can just tell that he's been having a good laugh over how Four Eaton walked through a romantic park with _a girl._

"It was lovely, thanks." I say through gritted teeth, turning to Lady Beatrice and kissing her gloved knuckles. "Thank you for walking with me, my lady."

"You didn't congratulate her on beating away the ruffians!" Uriah sounds appalled and he bounds forward to bow deeply to Lady Beatrice and her friend. "You are my hero, lady. When I grow up, I want to be like you." He bends forward to whisper something in her ear, and her lips curl into a small smile.

I grasp his shoulder and drag him away. "You knew about Millennium Park." I growl.

He shrugs, "I thought it would be amusing."

"Did you plan to meet Lady Beatrice there?"

"No, it was just sheer luck that we met her and Lady Christina. Though I can guarantee that we'll be seeing more of those lovely ladies soon."

"Who is Lady Christina?" I ask as we walk to where Zeke waits for us at the entrance of Millennium Park. There's a distant expression on his face. I can tell he's thinking of Eleanor. She would've liked to come to this place.

"Lady Beatrice's friend. The dark-skinned beauty with the face of an angel." Uriah murmurs dreamily.

"Huh." I say absently. Suddenly, the rest of his words sink in.

"_What do you mean we'll be seeing more of them?"_

Uriah laughs.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to ElectricDemigod16, scc318, etzmn123, divergentdandelion, DKMfairy, ser1112, pixieprincess77, kitkat2001, Malfry, Emily volturi, luck8y, CavyGirl1991, Buddy339, TwerkTeamCaptain, Cya latter, ShaDeau4, mary24798, Fourtris4646, Mocat101 and BubblyBunny153 for following and/or favouriting! Thanks to Sandprints, LegendLover94, scc318, Divergent1315, DKMfairy, kitkat2001, TwerkTeamCaptain, Guest and Catelyn for reviewing!**

**Seriously, wow! The feedback on this story has been so positive and awesome, so thank you so much. What did you think of this chapter? What do you think Uriah's planning? Let me know in the reviews!**

**Over and out,**

**Wren**


	4. A Change of Heart Of Sorts

**Chapter 4 — A Change of Heart . . . Of Sorts**

**Tobias POV**

The morning sunlight streams into the breakfast room of my townhouse as Zeke sets a stack of mail on the table and drops into a chair. I pick up the paper and absently flip through it until something catches my eye in the gossip column. It's my name. I wave the newspaper in Zeke's face. "What's this?"

He laughs as he reads the title: "Has Lord Four Eaton found love?" He looks at me, his shoulders shaking. "Have you?"

"No." I snap. "Who writes this?"

"Bored socialites with no class." Zeke picks up one of the envelope and idly unfolds it. He takes a sip of tea and spits it out as he reads the letter. "Dear Lord Eaton," he says in a falsely feminine voice. "I know this is terribly forward of me, but I would be very happy if you would consent to accompany me to the Fairfax's dinner—"

"The Fairfax's dinner?" Uriah interrupts, coming into the breakfast room and grabbing another one of my letters. "Were we invited?"

"Yes." I growl, snatching at the letters. "But I'm not going."

Uriah smirks as he waves the pink paper around. The overpowering scent of violets makes me gag. "Are you scared of meeting—" He reads the name at the bottom of the letter, "Lady Jane Borough? She sounds charming. My dearest Four, I would be ever so pleased if you would accompany me to the Fairfax's dinner on the fourteenth of May. Look she even included a portrait!" He says, waving a small hand-painted picture of a plain, mousy girl with elaborate jewels.

"Or what about this one?" Zeke asks. "I was ever so disappointed to hear of your stroll with Lady Beatrice through Millennium Park for I believe that we are destined to become soul mates."

I choke on my biscuit and Uriah pounds me on the back. "I never had to deal with this in the country." I moan and bury my head in my hands. "I thought girls were supposed to be all modest and polite, not swarming me like bees to honey. And even if they weren't, their mothers are supposed to keep them in check!"

"Most likely these girls are sending off the letters without telling their mothers." Uriah smirks, "and the rumour that unmarried girls are modest is only that—a rumour."

"Look, this one's from your mother." Before I can stop him, Zeke unfolds it. "Dear Tobias, I have been reading the London papers and they are simply appalling. Are you really finding love with this Lady Beatrice? I don't think that it would be wise for you to return home until you have found a wife. These rumours cannot continue for they are tarnishing the Eaton name. Therefore, I am forcing you to prolong your stay in London for the summer. Love Mother."

"What?" I dive across the table and rip the note from his hands. I read it and reread it, but the contents remain the same. I'm forced to find a wife before I can return home. I don't know if I could march into my estate and demand that my mother stop ordering me around, but that's something a gentleman never does. Besides, my mother could easily ruin everything I've worked for. A strangled scream of frustration pushes past my lips.

"Easy, easy." Uriah's hands tighten on my shoulders as he pushes me back into my chair. I shrug him off and begin to pace. "You just need to find a wife before fall. We'll stay with you until then, but I'm not missing hunting season." It's the wrong thing to say and a panicked look crosses his face when I begin to walk towards him, slowly and menacingly. He raises his hands in surrender, "I was only joking. We'll stay with you as long as you need us."

"What am I going to do?" I moan miserably. Zeke sends me a sympathetic look. He knows that I don't want to find a wife—I'm quite happy to hide at the abbey for the majority of the year, hunting and riding, and staying out of the public eye. As for the other part of the year, I spend my time in Chicago, managing my business. If I found a wife, my bachelor lifestyle would be over. And I don't want it to be.

"Marry Lady Beatrice." Uriah suggests unhelpfully.

My jaw drops. "Are you crazy? I barely know her!"

"Why not? She's brave, attractive enough and you are already associated with her. She looks like she'd enjoy the rugged lifestyle."

"You are crazy." I decide, gathering up all the flowery pink letters and dropping them in the grate. I watch as they glow red and orange and then crumble to ash. _Take that Lady Jane_ I think savagely.

"And while you are with Lady Beatrice, I could charm her charming friend." Uriah says dreamily.

"Or maybe you should find a wife." He sputters indignantly and vehemently shakes his head, before eating a big spoonful of marmalade washed down with milk. I cringe. It looks disgusting.

"I think Uri is on the right track." Zeke looks equally disgusted with his brother's eating habits and he pushes the marmalade out of Uriah's reach. "Lady Beatrice doesn't seem terribly interested in your fortune. She doesn't exactly like you, but that'll be part of the fun. Make her fall in love with you."

"Or making her hate you even more." Uriah reaches for the marmalade, but his brother smacks his hand away.

"I don't even know where she lives. It was simply a stroke of luck that we ran into her yesterday."

Uriah smirks as he reclaims the jam. "Luckily for me, I know exactly where to find her."

**Tris POV**

_Clunk._ The wooden ball hits the edge of the hoop and rolls away, disappearing into a patch of thick grass. I chase after it, keeping one hand firmly on my heavy hat as I bend down to pick it up. Christina laughs at my mediocre croquet skills.

"Honestly Tris, if I'd known how bad you were at croquet I would have never come."

I shrug, "Uriah said he'd meet us here at twelve."

"To play a child's game. And I thought he was manly." Christina laughs again, but I notice the way her cheeks darken when she mentions his name.

"You liked him."

"He was charming." She's suddenly very interested in examining her mallet, running her fingers along the grain of the wood. I grin slightly and try to hit the ball through the hoop. It fails _again. _I scowl, why can't I play croquet? Throwing knives? I could easily do it in my sleep. Firing a gun is even easier.

"I see them." Chris stands up and brushes off her skirt. My head turns in their direction—they seem to be arguing. Four's cheeks redden and he looks miserable while Zeke has a frustrated expression on his face. Uriah's laughing and he's first one to reach us. He rushes forward to plant a flirtatious kiss on Chris' knuckles. Then, he turns to me with raised eyebrows. "Were you trying to play croquet?"

I nod and turn to retrieve my mallet, coming face-to-face with Four. He forces his miserable expression into a pained smile. "Might I have a word?" He asks me. I sense Zeke watching us, but Uriah and Chris are occupied—he's teaching her how to play croquet and he's a much better player than me.

"Of course." I say. We walk until we are out of earshot of the others and he turns to look into my eyes. His expression is wild and panicky and he looks horribly uncomfortable.

"Lady Beatrice, I need your help."

* * *

**Hmm . . . wonder what that's about! I know it seems insensitive that Four's thinking about using Tris to leave London, but he just REALLY hates London and it will be explained later on.**

**Thank you to IsThisAREalFanofDivergentYES, horsez913, DivergentGames12, AwesomeTooAwesome, SnowMonkey583, juliettelove, coolrocks113 and Cassandra S. Fisher for following and/or favoriting! I apologize if I missed anyone because the way that I usually keep track of who followed/favourited has been unreliable lately, but, I always appreciate new follows or favorites! Thanks to IsThisAREalFanofDivergentYES, horsez913, scc318, dauntless0090, LegendLover94, Divergent1315, Sandprints, Guest, AwesomeTooAwesome and Catelyn for reviewing!**

**Thanks for supporting this story!**

**Have a nice day/evening!**

**Over and out,**

**Wren**


	5. It's What I Do in My Spare Time

**Chapter 5 — It's What I Do in My Spare Time**

**Tris POV**

"Why are you eating?" Al asks curiously as I fill my plate and sit down beside Christina. "Aren't you going to that fancy dinner with Lord Four?" He jealously spits out Four's name like it's a poisonous thing. I smile slightly as I take another bite of cake. Awkwardness aside, it is nice to be liked.

Christina rolls her eyes, "have you ever been to a fancy dinner, Al?" They barely feed you at those things."

"So I'm stocking up." I mumble through a full mouth.

Will nudges Chris. "Are you going with Lord Uriah?" There's a small hint of jealousy in his voice too, but only barely. Will's always been better at hiding his feelings for Christina.

"No," Christina grins wolfishly, ignoring the challenge in his words. "Only to the house. Four thinks I'm chaperoning, but I've better things to do then watch him stare at Tris." I blush, remembering how Four had looked at me with such nervous intensity in his eyes last time we saw each other. He can barely stand me. Or at least I thought so until he asked me to accompany him to the Fairfax's dinner.

"_Lady Beatrice I need your help." _

_I looked at Four in surprise. When had he ever needed my help? He stood looking at me discomfort etched into ever part of his face. I realized he was waiting for an answer._

"_What?" Not a very eloquent response to be sure, but my mouth was dry. Out of the corner of my eye Christina and Uriah had abandoned their game, while Zeke openly stared at us._

"_I-I . . . need you help." He repeated and looked away. My eyes followed his and I saw as Zeke gave him an encouraging nod. Christina watched him hungrily as if she expected Four to drop down on one knee. I blushed at the thought._

_He turned back to me, determination glinting in his eyes. "Would . . . would—" His knees seemed to be giving out—or maybe he was bending them on purpose. "Would you accompany me to the dinner at the Fairfax's?" He blurted._

_I blinked and nodded. Zeke looked disappointed._

"Tris? Are you listening?" Christina lightly smacks my cheeks. Al gives me a strange look. "I think Four might propose."

"Is the Stiff getting a bit . . . un-stiff?" I cringe at the voice. Eric is one of the few Dauntless that continue to call me "Stiff"—though I've grown out of that name. According to him, I was too much of an uptight, rule-abiding citizen when I joined. Eric drops into the seat across from me. He must have just come from training, as he's sweaty and smelly. "Did you hear that?" He raises his voice and the surrounding tables look at us. The volume in the Pit increases as people begin to murmur. I catch whispers of _Tris_ and _engaged._

"Was that necessary?" Will snaps, "you know exactly why she's doing what she's doing."

"Obviously." Eric smirks and stuffs more beef in his mouth. Eric and I have never been friends—we are more comfortable being enemies. There's too much rivalry between us. "I bet you're going to the dinner at the Fairfax's."

The irony doesn't escape me—that I'm discussing dinner plans with Eric, though he was born into a noble family. He's not terribly important, being the second son of a second son and he had no qualms about abandoning his family to join the Dauntless. His family doesn't know of his betrayal and he often receives dinner invitations like the Fairfax's. His parents still want to marry him off, but I'm not sure who could ever love Eric with his greasy hair and dangerous smile.

"Yes." I stand up. "Christina I think I need to get dressed now."

"Certainly, my lady." She curtsies perfectly—until I shove her over.

"See you soon Lady Stiff." Eric calls over the laughter. My eyes travel upwards where Max is standing on the balcony, watching me. He raises an eyebrow. The silent message is written plainly across his face. _Remember._

* * *

I stare at the inky blue dress nervously. It's beautiful, but in the dramatic, daring way that Christina always seems to like to dress me in. I feel a slight tug on my scalp as she pulls half of my hair away from my face and fastens it with silver clips. My fingers trace the delicate metal and I fidget, pulling them off to the side until they no longer dig into my head.

"You look beautiful." She says. "You look like a real lady. No one will doubt that."

We leave the compound and walk along quiet streets until we reach a respectable townhouse. The windows are dark. It's where I told Four that I lived, though this place is home to a newlywed couple who like to give their staff Thursday evenings off while they go out for supper.

"Remember you have to be home by midnight—when Lord and Lady Mikhail return home we can't be here."

"Like Cinderella."

Her lips quirk, "but don't lose your shoe. I doubt Four would be willing to gallivant around London to return it."

**Four POV**

"Would you like some _chicken_?" Uriah asks while I eat before leaving to attend the dinner—the Fairfaxes aren't known for their food. He wears a sly grin. I shrug and take a bite of chicken. Uriah looks appalled. "Are you a cannibal now?"

"Pardon me?"

He shrugs, "you're eating one of your own kind." The fork pauses halfway to my mouth. I close my eyes and inhale sharply. Ever since I didn't ask to court Lady Beatrice, Uriah's been dropping chicken jokes almost as often as he draws breath. Unfortunately, it would be ungentlemanly to throw a chicken leg at his head.

* * *

She looks beautiful, I note with surprise. Her dark dress melts into the liquid shadows of the streetlights. She always wears blue—I've never seen her wear anything other colour. Her chaperone's missing.

"Where's your friend? I thought she was coming with us." I thought we might walk to the Fairfax's townhouse—it's not far—but rumours would fly if we showed up unescorted and _together._

She shrugs, "Christina fell ill shortly before we left. I'm afraid we'll have to go alone." Lady Beatrice doesn't sound very sorry.

With a sigh—we'll have to risk the gossip—I offer her my arm and she takes it without hesitation. Her bright eyes look up at me. "Do you know the Fairfaxes?"

"Not well." I mumble. "Though they aren't known for their dinner parties."

She laughs lightly, but it turns into a shrill scream as her arm's ripped away from mine. Beatrice screams again, her voice breaking. Three men surround us—ruffians dressed in ragged blue clothes.

Hands claw at my shoulders as I thrash wildly and my fist collides with someone's jaw. He grunts and releases me. The air's knocked out of me as something slams into my stomach and I gulp for air. Another pair of arms seizes my shoulders and tighten around my neck.

Suddenly Beatrice is beside me jabbing her elbows and knees into one of the men. Her actions are crisp, efficient and confident—until she smacks him across the face. His mask slips and Beatrice backs up, her face turning white.

"C-caleb?" The man raises an eyebrow and glances at me, held in the arms of one of his friends. A flash of recognition crosses his face. I imagine he's wondering how much he could ransom me for.

"I see you're still up to your old tricks . . . sister." Sister? I glance between the two, trying to find shared features; there are very few.

With a snarl, she launches herself at her brother and kicks him—hard. She knees him in the face as I buck wildly. My captor's hold on me falters and he flips over my head. His head hits the ground with a sickening crunch. Beatrice picks up one of her fallen shoes and whacks Caleb across the face. He shrieks; crumples; and Beatrice grabs my hand. "Let's go."

"It was stupid to not take a carriage tonight. I thought it would be nicer to walk." I gasp. _Stupidstupidstupid_ I chant to myself. We could've been killed. "Though we have a good excuse not to attend the dinner." There's a rip down the side of her dress and her hair has escaped its pins and frames her face in a tangled halo. She's walking in her stockings. I must look like that, only worse.

"I thought it would be fine too. Obviously not." She must be thinking the same thing because there's the ghost of a smile on her face and she straightens her skirt. "You did well."

"I've had practice."

She gives an unladylike snort. "Practicing with whom? An ancient sparring instructor who creaks when he punches and dodges?"

"With Uriah and Zeke actually." I wince remembering the numerous bruises and scrapes that they've given me over the years. "They fight dirty."

"And street urchins fight even dirtier."

"So . . . that was your brother?"

A shadow crosses her face and her lips tighten. "Caleb took care of me after our parents died. I trusted him without question. But he betrayed me too often and I was forced to take care of myself."

"I'm sorry." I realize that we're still holding hands and that our fingers have twined together. I don't pull away and neither does she. My stomach growls—the chicken feels like ages ago. Beatrice's stomach growls just as loudly. It's a good as any time to change the subject. I'm worried that the talk of family will cause her to ask me about my own.

"Lady Beatrice, where could we eat without being shunned for looking like ruffians?"

"Do you think I wander around looking for unsavoury places to eat after I've been in a fight?" She sounds insulted and releases my hand, I pause uncertainly. Have I been rude? She laughs cheerfully. "Don't worry, I know just the place where we can freshen up and eat." There's a beat of silence then, "you should call me Tris, my lord. All of my friends do."

"Tris. Call me Four." I pause for a second and the memory of her quick punches come to mind. "I've never met a girl who could fight like that."

"It's what I do in my spare time."

* * *

The Parlor is a small pub in the poorer part of London It's strange to see Tris here. I thought she'd be uncomfortable among the rotting garbage and dilapidated buildings, but the way that she travels through twisting alleys can only be described as confident.

She's familiar with the slim, dark-haired woman with slanted eyes at the counter. Her eyes crinkle when she sees our tattered clothes and sweat-streaked faces. "Again, Tris?"

She shrugs, "can I borrow clothes Tori? We were supposed to attend a dinner party. It didn't work out."

"Was it the Erudite?"

Tris sends a warning glance at Tori, nodding in my direction. "We just need clothes and food."

"You haven't introduced me." Tori says.

"This is Four." When she shakes my hand her grip is strong.

"I'm Tori, owner of The Parlor. Clothes are in the back."

Tris leads me through a narrow passageway until we reach a small room with a wardrobe. Almost every inch of the shabby wallpaper is obscured by drawings of every imaginable variety. "Tori's an artist." Tris says, following my eyes.

After we've discarded our ripped dinner clothes and changed into black tunics and pants, we make our way back into the pub.

"Tris," Tori calls. "Help me bring the food out." I can hear bits of their whispered conversation as they pile plates of bread and beef on the rickety table.

"I can recognize a lord . . . I know what I'm doing . . . Max needs to . . . just be safe . . ."

"Tori's an old friend." Tris sits down. Her voice is cheerful, but there's worry in her eyes.

"Ah, who's Max?"

She wets her lips, "another old friend."

"Do you travel around the rougher parts of London often?"

"Often enough that I know my way around, but not often enough that the locals call me one of their own." She fidgets with her sleeve and I notice that she's wearing black clothes similar to mine. Somehow, it makes her look familiar, but I can't place where I've seen her before.

"I've never known a lady who likes to get their hands dirty."

She laughs, a dry sound that doesn't sound humourous at all. "Haven't you realized? I'm not like other ladies."

* * *

**A/N: Whew! A pretty lengthy chapter by my standards. I suppose that's one benefit of being sick. Thank you to everyone who supported this story by reviewing/following/favouriting! How many of you guys have seen the Divergent movie? I went a while ago (like the day after it premiered—I annoyed my parents until they took me) and I thought it was so, so good! I can't decide which one I liked the best because Tris was even more badass in the movie and my friend and I thought that Eric was super awesome.**

**NOTE: I used a direct line from **_**Divergent.**_** Who can spot it?**

**Have a nice/day evening and Happy Easter!**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	6. Changed Plans

**Chapter 6 — Changed Plans**

**Tris POV**

"You look happy." Christina notes wistfully when she sees me stretched out on my bed, still in a dress from an outing with Four.

I sit up and begin to remove my stockings and shoes. It has been three weeks since the Fairfax's dinner and our absence was noticed. Rumours spread and speculation over our relationship flew. Whispers follow us wherever we go now. And it doesn't bother me. "I am. Four's becoming better at sparring."

"You're teaching him how to fight? Is that even wise? He's bound to become suspicious."

"He saw me when the Erudite men attacked." I say thinking of the rival heist organization that recruited my brother. "I think he admires that I know how to defend myself."

"Though you're still trying to master fighting in a dress without ruining it." Her pained expression and my eyes flit to the worktable where the inky blue dress is spread out on the wooden surface. She's been trying to fix the tears and gaps.

"I'm sorry about the shoes." I had to leave them behind and while I don't care—they hurt my feet—Christina was furious. She sighs and bites her lip unhappily. "Uriah sends his regards." I try to distract her and it works. Briefly, her expression softens before hardening again.

"He's very kind." Her tone suggests otherwise. She picks up a brush and yanks it through her hair viciously.

"Chris? Is everything alright?"

"Will kissed me. And I had to push him away." She blurts. I nod slightly. There's been tension between the two of them ever since last week, but I was afraid to ask. We both know it's safer this way—to remain unattached to anybody but ourselves. Then Max has no one to use against us.

"It's for the best." I whisper, though my words are hollow sentiments.

"For the best?" She whirls around to face me, sparks flying from her eyes. "I think I love him! But I can never have him. I have a better chance with Uriah! Yes, he's kind and funny and handsome, but he isn't the one I want!"

"Neither of us wanted this." But it was our only option if we wanted to escape poverty. My stomach clenches briefly at the thought of all the men we've betrayed and robbed. We've escaped the streets, but at what price?

She snorts. "Don't be stupid. You love him. I've seen the way your eyes light up, the way you smile when someone mentions his name. You're even willing to abandon your friends for him—"

"It's my mission!" I snarl, "I don't have a choice!"

"You always have a choice. You just don't want to see it."

"You know what happens if I fail? If we fail? We lose our friends, our home, our livelihood. We lose everything!" I explode, furiously stripping off the delicate dress and replacing it with black pants and a tunic.

"I'd rather be penniless with Will than the wealthiest woman in the world with Uriah."

"Don't be cruel to Uriah." I say frostily, "he's only kind because he doesn't know you're tricking him."

"That's rich coming from you. Or perhaps you do love Four."

"I don't love anyone. I never will."

"Dear god, make up your mind. Because it feels to me like you do love him." Her eyes widen when I bend down to pick up the shoe. Gripping the heel in one hand and the toe in the other, I slam it over my knee. The glass accents shatter and it breaks in two. I toss the pieces on the floor and angrily open the door.

"Shut up, Christina." The door slams behind me.

* * *

Al finds me hidden in a forgotten hallway. My knees are drawn underneath my chin and I'm shivering. His uncomfortable expression suggests that he heard part of the "conversation" between Christina and me. "Max wants to see you." His eyes are sad. "He's waiting in his office."

Max smiles at me as I enter. His smile is too cheerful—he looks like he's had good news. "Sit down, Tris."

I sit while he moves around his office. It's a tactic of his. He likes to make people nervous so they'll agree to whatever he says. "What do you want Max?"

Finally, he sits down. "There's been a change in the plan. I was discussing it with Jeanine and—"

"Jeanine? The leader of the Erudite?" When he nods, I grit my teeth. "You do know that three Erudites attacked me a few weeks ago?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "We orchestrated it. You needed help gaining Four's trust." My body numbs. If Jeanine's involved with this heist, the choice of my brother as one of my attackers was deliberate. "As I was saying, we've decided it would be wiser to . . . truly unite with Four."

"You mean marry him." I say dully.

He grins, "yes! Exactly. You would only be married until he sees fit to change his will, leaving his fortune to you. We were also thinking that it would help speed the process if there was a child involved."

"A child." I close my eyes, "and then what? You allow us to live happily ever after, while I quietly steal his money?"

"An unfortunate hunting accident might be more beneficial to our cause." Max unfurls a newspaper and points to a picture. It's an American paper, but somehow a picture of us is splashed across the front page with a tacky headline above our heads. In the photograph my eyes are shyly lowered to the ground and Four's looking at me sideways, his mouth turned upwards. "He already loves you. It will be the next step for him to propose."

I wonder how he could have gathered that from a photograph. We look like friends, yes, but two people in love? No.

"He wouldn't really die in a hunting accident, would he?"

Max shakes his head, "it would be your reward."

Suddenly, I know two things with acute certainty. One: I may not love Four, but I'll never kill him. And two: if it was anyone else, I wouldn't hesitate.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Sorry for the shorter update but I'm going to a horse show tomorrow and there's lots to do!**


	7. Hidden Connections

**Chapter 7 — Hidden Connections**

**Four POV**

Her fist hits my jaw and I stumble. My hands instinctively touch the tender skin and it's a mistake. Tris' knee slams into my stomach. I wheeze, painfully aware that a lady half my size is a better fighter than I could ever hope to be. Something wraps around my legs and I stumble, hitting the ground with a grunt. Tris smiles a little as she pins me down with her elbows and knees.

"I win."

"Obviously." I grin. She slides off me, and I prop myself up on my forearms.

She's quieter today, her face paler and her eyes sadder than usual. It makes me curious, but when we met in an old and abandoned warehouse to spar, something in her expression told me that I shouldn't ask.

I stand up, offer her my hand and after a quick look around to make sure no one's watching, we step into an alleyway outside.

After we've taken a table at The Parlor (our chosen place for meetings because no proper socialite would ever brave the dirty parts of London), my hand brushes my mother's letter in my jacket, and it reminds me why I wanted to see her.

"I'm returning home this afternoon." I say. Something similar to alarm flashes in her eyes before she smiles.

"You miss your estate."

"More than anything." I say, taking a bite of cake. It will be nice to leave London, to escape the sly glances and whispers. I long to leave it all behind and never return. But my mother has one more condition: _bring Lady Beatrice. I want to meet her._ "Will you accompany me home?"

Her eyes widen and I wonder if I was too forward, but before I can say anything else, her small hand covers mine. "I would love to." Her blue eyes mirror the uncertainty I feel and I'm grateful that we can share the discomfort.

Tori brings a pot of tea to the table. We pull our hands apart, and I feel miss her warmth immediately. "Tris, can you come with me? I have some of your dresses in the back." She nods and stands up. Frowning, I follow them. Their voices drift through the thin walls.

"What happened?"

Tris' voice is so quiet I miss her answer. There's more whispering, and then, "I don't know! Chris is angry. There's no one to trust. I was stupid to think that this life was safe." Footsteps move towards the door and I dart back to our table.

Minutes later, Tris reappears with flushed cheeks and a frustrated set to her jaw. "You haven't touched the tea." She says when she sees the clean cups. Her careful eyes have missed nothing.

I watch her as she drinks her tea, my mind replaying the fragments of the conversation that I heard. Tris is brave and smart and selfless, but she's hiding something. Everything about her, from her elegant clothes to her fighting skills, is calculated in a way that I don't understand. It makes me uneasy and then angry with myself. Tris is my friend. I'm not going to doubt her.

**Tris POV**

I find Susan when I return to the compound. She's rolling bandages in the infirmary, her blonde head bent over the strips of gauze, a content smile on her face. My friend has always been the happiest when she's helping others.

I take a seat beside her, and begin to help. She glances up. "Hello Tris."

"Susan," I pause. "Do you want to accompany me to Four's estate in the country?"

I see her hesitate. "Isn't Christina coming with you?"

"No, she's not. Besides, I know you like the country." While I love the chaos and wildness of Dauntless, Susan prefers a quiet life. Once long ago, before Caleb abandoned me for the Erudite, I thought that Susan would become my sister-in-law. I was not the only one my brother betrayed.

She nods, a quick, efficient bobbing of her head, before returning her eyes to her work. I smile gratefully, though she doesn't see it. I stand up to leave.

"Tris. I know it's your assignment, but be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

It's strange how the people who care about me are full of warnings, while the ones that only see me as a disposable tool are pushing me into something with Four. I don't know who I should listen to.

Just as I pass the Pit, Will jogs up beside me. "Christina is going to stay in my room for a few days." He says. He looks down. "What's Uriah like?" The question is sudden, yet expected.

"Nice." His face falls. "But not you. Not to her."

"Yeah, I heard that part."

"Heard . . . what? Oh." Heat spreads across my cheeks. "How much?"

"We were waiting—Al and I—for you in the hall. So to answer your question, everything." I wince. "You don't have to do it, Tris." His voice is soft.

"You don't understand. I can't leave. I can't stop."

"We could do it." Will whispers. We are at my bedroom door and the corridor is empty. "We could run away. Make our own lives."

"And how long do you think we'd last?" I say. "You, me, Christina and Al—we know too much about Dauntless. They'd kill us before they'd let us go."

"The defeatist attitude doesn't suit you. You're better than that." I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. Everyone wants to warn me, and Four's becoming suspicious—I can see it in his face. I'm willing to bet a limb that he was eavesdropping this afternoon.

"We were stupid, weren't we?" I laugh dryly, opening my eyes and peering into the gloom. Our words are rebellious and we can't afford for anyone to hear them. "I thought the Dauntless life was a good life. "

Will grins, "It is. But I thought it was just jumping on trains and meeting pretty girls."

"Pretty rich girls." I correct. Will and Al are like Christina and me. Young widows will pay handsomely for a handsome companion—until the companion robs them.

His smile fades. He must be remembering the people he has betrayed too.

"I'm leaving in a few hours anyway. Christina can have the room." Will raises his eyebrow.

"Four invited me to his estate." I say as cheerfully as possible. "And Susan is coming with me."

"Well, we have to keep everything proper." He smiles at me.

I nod and place my hand on the doorknob. "I think I'm meeting his mother."

Will shudders, "Lady Evelyn."

"I have to pack. Wish me luck." I shiver.

"Good luck. And don't forget, we'll never leave you Tris."

* * *

Four's waiting for us at the train station with Uriah and Zeke. Uriah's face falls when he realizes that Christina isn't coming, but it lights up when he sees Susan.

"This is Lady Susan Black." I say, holding Susan's arm tightly.

Four bows, "it is a pleasure to meet you my lady." She smiles softly as Four looks at me. "Is Lady Christina joining us as well?"

"Unfortunately, no. She is still ill. Her cold is atrocious." Beside me, Susan looks down at the ground and frowns. She hates lying.

"A shame." Four's smile looks forced as I take his arm. Susan walks with Uriah and Zeke follows after inspecting the bulletin board of the main building. We climb into a private compartment in first class. I try to ignore how close I am sitting beside Four. There's only six inches between us, and it simultaneously feels like we should be closer—and sitting at opposite ends of the compartment.

Uriah leans forward in his seat. "Are you ready to see a new and improved Four as we approach the estate, my lady?"

"New and improved?" I laugh. "How can that be?"

"You'd be surprised." Four scowls at Uriah.

Zeke looks up from his newspaper. "Uri stop it. Let Four flirt with his lady." We both blush as Zeke's face slackens and pales. "The Kangs have declared bankruptcy." He says tightly.

Susan and I share a look. Our friends, Marlene and Lynn have succeeded in their assignment.

"They were good people. Very honest, perhaps a little too honest." Uriah cranes his neck to look at the paper. "Who stole their money?"

"No one knows." Zeke answers. "Though it says that Jack's wife was friends with two young ladies who disappeared shortly after the scandal."

"It's ridiculous." Four growls. "The Kangs earned their money. To lose it because a few greedy girls decided they wanted to buy nice dresses from France . . ." I bite my lip. I wonder what he'll say about me when I betray him.

I never want to find out.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update! This chapter was hard to write for some reason. Thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews. This story wouldn't be here without your support!**

**Have a nice day/evening :)**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	8. Lies and Revelations

**Chapter 8 — Lies and Revelations **

**Four POV**

She lied. And it's all I can think about. Had it only been this morning when Tris told Tori Lady Christina was angry, not sick? Perhaps it was only a small lie to hide their disagreement, but small lies can become bigger.

"Do you think Lady Beatrice had something to do with the Kang's bankruptcy?" I turn my head away from the window—two of my carriages were waiting for us at the train station. Tris and Lady Susan took one and Zeke, Uriah and I took the other. We can talk privately now.

Zeke watches me expectantly. "No. I don't think so. Why?"

He shrugs. "She looked guilty, that is all."

"Or perhaps she felt sorry for them." Uriah always sees the good in people—even when a certain dark-haired lady isn't influencing his opinion.

"Terrible business." Zeke folds his paper. It crackles as the carriage bumps to a stop.

I climb out, home at last.

The Abbey hasn't changed very much. It's still massive and intimidating—to an outsider—but the sight of the rosy brick and wild gardens surrounded by rows of thick trees is comforting to me. I breathe through my nose. There's only clean air, untainted by chemicals and thick smoke.

My mother is waiting by the front door. She's surrounded by most of the house staff—Amar, Molly, Drew, Peter and Shauna. Amar steps forward and speaks in the deep voice that I've come to associate with my childhood: "Welcome home, My Lord. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"Very." I smile. I've always liked our butler. My mother walks towards me, cheek brandished, waiting for the greeting kiss. Her slender arms wrap around my waist.

"Hello Tobias." She releases me to greet Uriah and Zeke. They kiss her outstretched hand. Then, her eyes turn to Tris.

I can hear the crunch of gravel as she fidgets. I brace myself and wait. Wait for my mother's smile to fade, for her to frown and to make some sort of disparaging comment. And I realize I don't want her to. Tris means something to me. I don't want her hurt, but I know she's stronger than I think. A comment couldn't make her crumble.

My mother does nothing but continue to smile. Something glitters in her eyes as she says, "hello Lady Beatrice. It's lovely to finally meet you."

"Likewise, My Lady." Tris curtsies, "this is my friend Lady Susan."

Zeke and Uriah stare as they exchange pleasantries. "I thought it would be more uncomfortable." Uriah says.

"So did I." They are all smiling and Tris looks relieved. There's still tension in the air, but not as much. And yet, I still feel my stomach pinch.

"Shall we go inside? Our cook has prepared a light lunch." My mother says. Tris appears at my elbow. I feel her warm hand meet my arm, and I relax.

"Your home is lovely." She says.

"It is." I move my arm so that we walk closer together. "It's the best place in the world."

Tris laughs. "Careful, or I might not want to leave."

"I wouldn't mind." I murmur before I can catch myself.

Her eyes widen. "Pardon me?"

"I think you heard."

I glance down again. She's laughing and happy, and I hate to ruin the moment, but I have to ask. "Is Lady Christina angry with you?"

Her face stills, her eyes dull. And then, suddenly, she reanimates her features. "Angry with me for not bringing her, yes. But she's still so very ill. That spring chill is simply dreadful." She moves forwards, dragging me with her. "Are you coming with me, or are you going to stand there?"

She lied. I don't care. I follow her inside.

**Tris POV**

After lunch, I explore the Abbey. While Susan is happy to rest in our room, I wander the halls of Four's home. It's hard to imagine him as a child and even more difficult to picture him racing along the grand hallways lined with portraits of his ancestors. Because Eaton Abbey feels lonely and sad—these halls are much too big and I doubt that people and laughter can make the cold marble feel alive.

I drift to the end of the hall where Lord Marcus' picture hands in a heavy gold frame. Four has the same deep blue eyes as his father, but the similarities end there. While their features bear a resemblance to each other, their expressions are so different. A plague is inscribed with his date of death. Flowers sit beside it. I touch the petals gently and they crumple in my palm—dry and dead.

"We never saw the need to waste water."

Lady Evelyn is watching me, a small smile on her lips. "I'm sorry." I say, embarrassment heating my skin. "I didn't mean to snoop."

Her footsteps click on the marble. "You're one of the brave ones, aren't you?" I stare at her in confusion. Her smile only grows as she changes the subject. "Not all men are good men." She crumbles a few petals and opens her hand. The remains of the flower drift to the ground.

"I don't understand."

"Not many people do." She says. "Tobias doesn't miss his father. Nor do I. In fact, his death was a blessing. We lived in fear when Marcus was alive. Cowed and oppressed, it was not the best place for my son to grow up. Of course that's not appropriate to say in polite society. I choose to stay at the estate because I don't want to listen to idiotic people speak kindly of that monster. Tobias worries that I can't restrain myself in their midst." Her voice is bitter, and she brushes dust from the frame.

I remain quiet. What is there to say?

"But I imagine you know most of this already. I know Max is very thorough."

"Who is Max, My Lady?"

"Well played, well played. You are smart. Tell me Lady Beatrice, what is your favourite colour?"

"Blue."

"The colour of the Erudite. Strange." She says.

"Erudite. An adjective. It means to have or show great knowledge or learning. It doesn't have a colour." I recite. My heart is pounding. Does she know of the Dauntless?

"You know I am speaking of the heist society that hides in the alleys of London."

"I've never heard of this heist society." I stick my chin out and widen my eyes. I see my reflection in the dusty edges of the frame. I look defiant and innocent. I wonder which expression she'll believe.

She doesn't believe either. "If it was anyone but my son, I would turn a blind eye." Lady Evelyn moves closer until we are almost touching noses. "But my son has worked hard and I refuse to let Max ruin it."

I blink. She steps back. "I do know how to recognize a Dauntless, Tris."

* * *

**AN: Uh-oh. Where's that going to go? Thanks for the follows, favourites and reviews!**

**Have a nice day/evening!**

**Over and out,**

**Wren**


	9. Black and White

**Chapter 9 — Black and White**

**Tris POV**

Her finger lifts my chin up. I can feel her hot breath in my ear. "There are more heist societies than just Erudite and Dauntless." My chin drops and I stand, motionless, as her skirts swish. "Dinner will be in a few hours." She says, disappearing around the corner.

Fear courses through my body, making my limbs feel hollow. I turn and run. Susan looks up as I barrel into the bedroom. "She knows." I gasp. "She knows!"

"Lady Evelyn?"

"Who else?" I snap—and then feel terrible. It's not Susan's fault.

Her pale features are still serene and I worry that she doesn't see the problem. "But Four doesn't know. That's what is important. Does he like his mother? Trust her?"

"I don't know." I say and sit on the bed. My hands rest on my flushed cheeks. Liquid panic is still racing through my body.

Susan bends down beside me. "We are going to pretend that we don't know what she's talking about. We are going to act like we supposed to be here and anything else is unthinkable. Am I clear?" I stare at the girl who looks so similar to me that she could be my twin. I didn't know that her voice could sound so hard. "You are going to trust me."

Susan drags her trunk on the bed. I hear the rustling of paper and thin fabric as she pulls out brightly coloured dresses. Finally, she finds the one she's looking for and holds it up. "Perfect." She says.

"It's black."

"Precisely. The bolder the move, the less anyone questions it."

Those are not Susan's words. I know because I've heard them from someone else's mouth. "I'm not going to ruin this by following my brother's advice. He has ruined too much already."

"Well, he's not going to ruin this." Her voice is sad. Then, she smiles at me.

"Everything will be all right, Tris."

* * *

My battle armour is white lace and black silk. It covers me from just beneath my chin, to my wrists and falls to the floor in heavy folds. The dress is so modest that I feel comfortable, but I know it isn't proper dinner attire.

The halls are dark as we walk. And in the gloom, everything seems sinister and dangerous. I hear murmuring voices.

Two silhouettes press together in the shadows. They are kissing fiercely and my cheeks warm. Everything about it feels so improper. Their faces shift and candlelight reveals their identities. It is Zeke and one of the servants—Shauna, I think. I pull Susan down another corridor and we move away quickly. Neither of us speak—we know that this is a secret we must keep.

"He deserves happiness." Susan says quietly.

"Just as long as he is treating her like a gentleman should."

"We shouldn't judge them, Tris. Our time with men has either been false or tainted." Susan says wearily.

My lips twist and blue eyes crowd my thoughts. "True."

"Hello Lady Beatrice, Lady Susan, have you seen my brother?" Uriah walks beside us.

I don't look at Susan. "No. We have not seen anyone."

"Shame. I'm hungry and we're all waiting for him."

Suddenly Zeke appears, accompanied by Four. His hair his mussed and his lips are swollen.

"I hope we are not late." Susan looks at him anxiously. I suppress a smile.

"Ladies are never late." Four says as he offers me his arm and we walk into the dining room. Lady Evelyn is waiting and her eyes flit over my dress. I sit down beside Four and one of the footmen—the boulder-shaped one with orange hair—fills my glass.

"Do you ride horses, Lady Beatrice?" He asks, and my stomach pinches at the sound of my formal—and false—title.

"When I was a young child."

"Will you ride with me tomorrow morning?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I promise.

"I never had the pleasure of meeting your parents, Lady Beatrice." Evelyn's voice cuts through the comfortable silence I share with Four. "Where are they now?"

A lump lodges in my throat. "Mother." Four says warningly. "Leave her be."

A malicious smile stretches her face. "Tobias, you clearly enjoy Lady Beatrice's company. I think it's important to know her past."

I lunge across the table and punch her in the nose. She shouldn't be asking questions about my parents. Evelyn howls and clutches at her nose as red blood ruins her dress. Furious, I slap her cheek. My hand stings, and I grab her shoulders and shake her. "Don't you dare ask!" I howl. Four grabs my waist and spins me around. He stares at me, accusation in his eyes and anger in the tight lines of his mouth.

"What are you doing?" He demands.

I blink and try to forget the daydream. Four's hand tightens briefly around my wrist. "They died when I was young."

"You have my condolences." She doesn't sound sorry at all. "Where is their manor?"

"I had no need for a house in the country so I sold it."

"What a terrible shame. I'm sure Andrew and Natalie's house was very beautiful." I nod, thinking back to the small home with its conservative grey walls and sparse furnishings. The Dauntless compound feels more like home. They were part of a heist society too—the selfless Abnegation who stole from the rich and gave to the poor and put their own security and reputation at risk.

"I'm sure they would be proud of you." Evelyn raises her glass in my direction. Can anyone else hear her sarcasm?

I lift my chin. "I'm sure they would."

* * *

The next morning, I find Four in the stables. He's grooming a tall bay horse, murmuring softly while he does. "Good morning, Tris."

"Good morning."

"Your horse is in the stall next to Allegiant's. His name is Insurgent."

"Interesting. I glance through the bars. Insurgent's coat is silver, and his slender build promises a fast and exhilarating ride. He looks dangerous and ready to run and I wonder if Four knows I'm Dauntless. My pride and my unwillingness to turn my back on a challenge might confirm my true identity. I look up. He's watching me, a slight smile on his face.

"He's energetic, but I think you will like him."

"I just hope I don't have to ride side-saddle." I say.

"It's early enough that you won't cause a scandal if you ride astride."

"Four?" I ask, while rubbing a currycomb along Insurgent's belly. I have to stay light on my feet because the horse likes to kick out.

"Yes?"

"How long has Shauna been a maid for your family?"

"She appeared on my doorstep a few years ago. Zeke seems to like her." Silence. "I know that he wants to marry her. My mother doesn't and I intend to keep it that way." His voice is fierce.

"I understand." I place the saddle on Insurgent's back and tighten the girth. "Do you have any riding clothes I can wear?"

"They're in the tack room." After I pull on pants and boots and a heavy sweater, I bridle the horse. "Ready?" Four glances into the stall.

Out in the courtyard, he helps me mount, and the second I do, I feel Insurgent's muscles coil beneath me. He begins to trot in place and he throws his head into the air. We walk side by side along a small path in the park. Everything is lush and green and tall trees, covered by thick moss, surround us. "Beautiful." I breathe. Suddenly, the bushes begin to rustle and Insurgent tenses, and then bolts.

Four shouts behind me, and my hands clutch the mane. Branches slap my face as the horse jumps over fallen logs and stumbles in the thick grass and uneven ground. I'm bouncing in the saddle, tumbling one way and then the other, until something slams into my stomach and my feet fall out of the stirrups.

I'm on the ground, wheezing and wincing. I spread out my arms and stare at the canopy of green leaves and blue sky. When I press my ear to the ground I can feel the vibration of galloping hooves.

Four kneels beside me. His hands wrap around my shoulders and he pulls me into a sitting position. His heart hammers in my ear. "I hit a branch." I mumble into his chest.

He laughs, "Insurgent's back." I look over my shoulder to see a silver coat flash through the trees. Insurgent innocently looks at me, a large bundle of grass in his mouth.

"That was fun." His breath moves across my lips. We are so close that I can see that his mouth naturally turns down and the faint freckles across his nose. I exhale shakily. It feels like I cannot get enough air, and I don't think it's the branch's fault.

"Do you get a kick out of that sort of thing?" He leans his forehead against mine. Our noses brush.

I grin. "Yes. Do you want to race back?"

So we do.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for all the reviews/favourites/follows!**

**Have a nice day/evening :)**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	10. The One Left Behind

**Chapter 10 — The One Left Behind**

**Tris POV**

The polished door of Four's office is slightly ajar. I push it open and slip inside. My breath catches in my throat; it's a beautiful room with high ceilings and crammed bookshelves. It's also empty. I glance back into the hallway and see no one, so I dash back inside and begin to rifle through the papers on his desk. I don't have much time, but I need to find Four's bills. It's the only way I can get myself out of this mess.

But his desktop is strangely tidy and his drawers are empty. I only find one thing—a small velvet box in the desk drawer. Inside, a silver band with one small diamond and a circle of tiny amethysts sit on the padded cushion. It's engraved with the numbers four and six. I frown, what does it mean?

"I was wondering when you would find the ring." Four leans against the door frame, still dressed in his riding clothes. "I didn't know how to propose."

My breath catches in my throat. Propose? "What do the six and four stand for?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

He steps closer. "Four for my name and six for the six times I saw you before I realized how much I cared for you." His fingers trail across my collarbone. "I know I should court you properly, instead of throwing you on a wild stallion, but I can't wait."

He smiles and his eyes darken. "Four." I breathe.

"Please . . . call me Tobias. I want to hear my real name."

"Tobias." My voice is soft and shakes slightly.

He takes my hands in his. "Will you marry me, Tris?"

I should feel guilty. I should say no, and keep him safe from Dauntless. But I can't. I never realized how much I wanted to hear those words, and I don't want to give him up. I will keep him safe from Max, no matter what.

I am selfish. I am brave.

The word tumbles from my lips. "Yes."

Tobias kisses me. His lips are soft against my mouth. His heart is beating just as fast as mine. My fingers tangle in his hair and his thumb smoothes my cheekbone. I never realized how easy it is to become lost in a kiss. Hours later—or so it feels—we break apart. "I've wanted to do that for a some time now." He says, and slides the ring on my finger.

I grin. "Well, now you have."

His arms wrap around my waist. And then, his gaze shifts past me. In one smooth movement, he spins me around and pushes me behind him, giving me a glimpse of his distraction. Evelyn is standing in the doorway, her gun pointed at the spot where my back was seconds ago.

"What are you doing, Mother?" Tobias demands.

"She's Dauntless, Four." His shoulders tighten. He looks at me.

"Is it true?"

I gulp, close my eyes and wince. I can't lie, not to him, not anymore. He takes my reaction as my answer, and I can feel the absence of his body heat as he steps away.

My eyes snap open. Unhindered by her son's body, Evelyn shoots. She doesn't miss.

For a second, I feel nothing. Then, there's nothing but pain. I was shot once—in the shoulder. Eric was careless and I was careless, and it hurt so badly. This is worse. This is fire and ice running through my veins, scorching my flesh and freezing my blood. I watch as red ruins my clothes. I tumble to the floor. Tobias's arms catch me before my head hits the desk. His shirt is red now too.

Everything starts to fade. The ice quenches the fire, the fire melts the ice and I'm almost all gone—

I wake up, my shrieks muffled by my blanket and pillow. My body is still sore from the ride in the morning. Susan sits up, her movements are heavy with sleep.

"Are you all right, Tris?"

"Yes." I say shortly. "It was just a dream. I'm going for a walk. Before she can protest, I grab my riding sweater and boots. The door shuts behind me.

My footsteps echo through the halls until I find a flight of stairs, and then another. I'm so flustered by my dream that I find myself lost, unintentionally wandering on the roof of the Abbey. There's a flat stretch of wood lined with empty flowerpots. The wind whips through my sweater and I wish that I would have had thought to pull on trousers. As I move closer, my palms sweat.

I'm not alone.

**Four POV**

Tris sits beside me. "Bad dream?" I ask, staring straight ahead. Even from the roof, I can see the candlelight flicker through the glass of my tenants' houses in the darkness.

I hear her swallow. "Yes."

There is nothing to say. I am no stranger to bad dreams, and I know that empty words won't help.

"Four." She says. I cringe, though I know she can't see. I want Tris to call me something else. Am I brave enough to ask? "Have you ever heard of the Dauntless?"

I inhale, sharply, and through my nose. Yes, yes of course I've heard of them. I hate them. They are only lying, scheming and greedy, and I don't want to burden someone as brave and good as you with the knowledge of the worst crooks in London. But that answer is too long. So I only say, "yes."

"How much of you heard of them?" Is it my imagination or does her voice sound timid?

"Enough." I say, and take the plunge. "My father was not one, but he acted like he was. They had an agreement—money for knowledge or knowledge for money. It was only after his death that I learned of it. When two men in black turned up on my doorstep and demanded that I honour Marcus's agreement, I refused. I decided, then, that I would never sink to his level."

Her hand finds mine. We tie our shaking fingers together. "You are not your father." She whispers.

It's strange how one sentence can make me so happy.

"I hate London because that's where he made his deals. Every alley, every building, only reminds me of the _shame_. I try to be honourable, but how can I be, when he's my ghost that follows me everywhere?" I'm so bitter. I want to hurt the man, but there's nothing I can do. Dead men don't feel pain.

Tris moves closer. "Our parents don't make us who we are. It's our choices that define us." I rest my cheek against her forehead.

"Thank you." I say. "Thank you for listening. I have never told anyone this before." I don't even trust my friends. Although Uriah and Zeke are like brother to me, they are not flesh and blood, and they wouldn't understand.

"With good reason." Her voice is disgusted. "People don't care about your choices. They don't care about your best qualities. They only care about your mistakes—or things that you can't help."

"We all make mistakes. My father's was making deals with greedy ruffians."

She stiffens, but doesn't pull away. "Do you ever wonder if some of the Dauntless are forced to steal and cheat?" Tris asks.

I shrug. "But why would they join in the first place?"

"Perhaps sometimes we—they don't have a better option. My brother joined the Erudite. I managed to survive on what my parents left us. But it almost wasn't enough."

"You made it. And you're stronger because of it."

"Yes. I wanted to become one of them once. I used follow Caleb as he walked with his new friends, and I would wonder what it would be like to have that kind of friendship, that kind of camaraderie strengthened by the knowledge that you're risking your life together."

"You couldn't be Dauntless. You're better than that." I say.

Air hisses through her teeth. The darkness makes her lips invisible, but I can sense them. It reminds of the recurring dreams—or nightmares—that send me up to my hiding place. Dreams where I propose and we share our first kiss. And then the ending is always the same: my mother shooting her and Tris bleeding in my arms.

I always wake up before she dies.

"I don't know, Four. I've lied too." She says thickly.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "You know this: you know my real name. I want you to call me by my real name." They are not comforting words, but they are words full of _my_ trust. We have all lied. That, we cannot change. But I trust her enough to give her a piece of me. It is a broken piece, to be sure—Marcus once called me Tobias, and the name is full of memories of belts and small cupboards. Now, I don't want to hide behind a nickname anymore.

That part of me can be remade with Tris.

"Tobias." My name has never sounded better.

The wind blows across the roof, and I regret forgetting my jacket, though only for a second. Tris curls up against me, and we help warm each other. We are not kissing. We are only touching. And yet, in that moment, it is enough

* * *

**AN: Yikes! Things are sorta kinda working out for them. When is it going to be ruined? Thanks for all the reviews/follows/favourites!**

**Have a nice day/evening :)**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	11. Black is the Colour

**Chapter 11 — Black is the Colour**

**Tobias POV**

A week after we return to London, Tris asks to meet me in a park. There's an anxious look in her eyes and her movements are sporadic and panicky. "We need to talk." She says, pulling me under a grove of trees. Her eyes dart around the clearing, and she shakes her head, and pulls me further away from the busy street. I'm dragged behind her as we duck between two buildings. Stupidly, I wonder if she's going to kiss me.

Her breath is coming in short gasps. "I have something to say." She pauses. "I know you will hate me, and I'm sorry. _I'm so, so sorry._" Her face is turning red.

"I don't understand. What are you sorry for?" My words sound clipped. There's a loud crack and Tris's head swings around. She yanks me into a smaller alleyway. Our faces are only a few inches apart.

She smiles apologetically. "Sorry, nerves."

I shake my head. "Please, explain. I'm confused."

"I really do like you, Tobias. I truly do—"

"Are you seeing someone else?" I interrupt.

Tris stares, and she throws back her head and laughs. "I wish it was that easy."

I stare at her. Her eyes drop to the ground. "Tris," I say softly. "What is it?"

She gulps. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Everything spiraled out of my control. Tori warned me that I couldn't trust—" The loud crack of a gunshot echoes through the air. I instinctively turn my head in its direction.

"That was close." I look back at Tris. "Why would someone shoot a gun in the middle of London?" My voice trails off. There's an almost clinical fascination in her eyes as she examines the red spreading across her shoulder.

"T-tobias, I don't think I can stand." Her words are hisses of pain, her eyes glassy with agony. I catch her as she crumples. Tris weighs nothing at all.

I trip over my own feet. Where can we go? How can I explain a bullet wound? My thoughts blur until they make me dizzy, and without thinking, I hurry towards the townhouse where we met the night we were attacked. It feels like so long ago. Tris moans into my shoulder. "Stay with me." I mumble. I take back alleys and shortcuts Even in my panicked state I know it wouldn't be wise to take Tris out in the open. It was a precise shot.

Halfway there I realize my home is closer, but it's too late to turn back now. The door of her respectable townhouse looms, and I slam the knocker against the wood with my free hand. A narrow-faced butler answers the door.

"Good day, sir. How can I—has that child been shot?" He exclaims.

"Yes," I say tightly. "It would be wise to call a doctor that you trust for your lady."

He peers at Tris's twisted face. I want to scream at him for taking so long, but when he raises his troubled brown eyes to meet mine, I feel a jolt of panic run through me. "My lady, sir? I have never seen this girl in my life."

* * *

The butler, Ferdinand, finally agrees to call a doctor. "My lord can't know of this." He says, spreading a clean sheet on the table. "Nor can the rest of the staff."

"Who is your employer?"

"Lord Mikhail." Ferdinand helps me lower Tris onto the table. "He and his wife are out. They give their staff Thursday evenings off. It was only chance that I remained here tonight."

"And you're sure that you've never seen Tris before?" I touch her warm cheek and her eyelids flutter.

He shakes his head, "never." And he walks out of the kitchen. I hope it's to fetch the doctor.

Tris has lied again, and I can't be angry when I'm too worried.

"Tobias?"

"Tris! I sit in one of the chairs and clutch the hand on her uninjured side. "The butler has gone to fetch the doctor."

"I don't deserve this." Her eyes search my face. "You're so kind. Why are you so good to me when you know I lied?"

"Because I like you." I say. Boldness is easy, when she's this fragile. I lean down and brush my lips against hers. She sighs into my mouth, and my hands cup her cheek as her one hand knots itself in my hair. Tris's lip is ragged from where she bit it to keep herself from screaming. The metal tang of blood fills my mouth, and I pull back.

Her eyes are glazed and she half-smiles. "That's the best way to kill the pain." Just as I lean down for another kiss, Ferdinand reappears with man in a dark coat.

As the doctor begins to clean her wound, Tris grasps my hand. "Don't leave me." She whispers.

"I never will. That's a promise." I say.

* * *

My eyes snap open. The room is dark, and I vaguely remember Ferdinand shutting off the lights with a promise to wake me early the next morning. I am confused—last night was a blur of blood and pain and worry.

I unfold myself from the small armchair in the spare room. I feel my way towards the bed and my hands search for Tris and only find cold sheets. I look under the bed and snort at my idiocy. She isn't anywhere else, but I do run into Ferdinand on my way out.

"Have you seen, Tris?" I ask.

He frowns, "no. I was just coming to wake you."

"She's not here. She's not anywhere." I can hear my panic creep into my voice."

"I imagine she's fine, sir. Girls like her are resourceful." I frown at the implication, as I pull my coat from the coatrack.

"The payment for the doctor." I drop money into his hands. "Thank you for helping us."

Ferdinand hesitates for a second, before pulling a letter from his jacket. "She left this on the table. It's addressed to you"

"Thank you." I say and close the door quietly behind me. Once I'm down the street, I open the letter and begin to read:

_Dear Tobias,_

_I've started this letter over and over, and I'm running out of time. So I'm going to say it and I apologize if it's horribly blunt, but I can't say it any other way. I'm sorry that I had to leave, but it isn't safe anymore. Although, I think you have mostly likely come to that conclusion by yourself. Don't worry about me. I have dealt with worse than a bullet wound_. _I can't see you again. It's for your own safety. I thought that I could share my secrets, but a sniper has made me realize that they aren't my secrets to share. Goodbye, Tobias. I won't see you again._

The letter slips from my hands and I stare blankly as water soaks it, blurring the ink. She's gone. This stilted, unhappy mess of a letter proves it. There is no eloquence in her goodbye—it was, most likely, a split-second decision.

I thought we had a future. I thought that parts of me could be remade with her. I was wrong, and that realization slaps me across the face. She owes me more than a letter hurriedly scribbled in the early morning hours. I will find her. _That is a promise._

* * *

Finding Tris is more difficult than I originally thought. But as I come back from Tori's I find a blond head in the midday crowd of Millennium Park.

"Susan!" I call, recognizing her when she turns.

Her eyes are wary. "Four."

I blink, unsure of her cold behavior. "Have you seen Tris?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me where to find her?"

"No. It's safer for both of you if you stay away from Tris." Her eyes are intense and I realize it's partly from anger and fear and partly from her black clothes . . .

"Susan! Are you coming?" We both turn towards the familiar voice. Susan's arm closes around my wrist.

"Go." She says. "Go now before she sees you." But it's too late, and Tris pushes past people. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders and she's wearing black trousers and a black tunic. I've seen her in these clothes many times before, but the facts have never connected in my brain, not until now.

She's the urchin that followed me. And when I see two large boys in black clothing follow Tris, I realize what a crowd of black clothing means.

Tris freezes when she sees me. She looks well—the only evidence of her injury is the bulk of bandages on her shoulder. My jaw clenches, and I turn and stalk away.

I have always hated the colour black.

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the delay in updating! This is the chapter I was most looking forward to writing. I hope it was worth the wait. If you think it was, please review! Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited!**

**Have a nice day/evening!**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


	12. And Lying is My Game

**Chapter 12 — And Lying is My Game**

**Tris POV**

I leave Eaton Abbey the next day. It's just too difficult to be around Evelyn with her knowing smiles, especially now that I've dreamt of my death at her hands. But it's worse with Tobias. The guilt crushes me—it squashes me, when I'm with him. He's seems lighter somehow, like telling me his secrets lifted a burden off of his shoulders.

And now they're resting on mine. I have a complete hold over him, his trust has given me the ultimate weapon, and I have to decide if I will destroy Tobias or save him.

"I wish you didn't have to leave so soon." He says, helping me into the carriage where Susan is already waiting. "There are many more things that we could do here."

"Like what? Go for another suicide race on Insurgent?" I laugh, and Tobias has the grace to look embarrassed.

"I thought he was getting exercised regularly. Obviously, I was wrong."

Balancing on the edge of the carriage I kiss his cheek. His lips quirk, "I will return to London in a few days."

"Really? I thought you hated it there."

His shoulders lift. "It's all right."

"Well then, I will see you soon."

On the way to the station, Susan watches me steadily. "Something has changed between the two of you."

Susan has two sides—the compassionate, unassuming side and then there's the shrewd, calculating one. The latter personality has been dormant for so long that I had almost forgotten it. "Yes." I say carefully. "Tob—Four shared some things from his past."

Her eyebrows crawl up her forehead. "He asked you to call him by his given name. I trust that you learned some interesting information."

"Something like that." I look out the window to see the station in the distance.

She's quiet until we're safely in our compartment on the train. "You have the key to completing your assignment. It is in your hands to decide what to do with it."

"What do you think I should do?" I ask.

"I do not love the Dauntless." She says after a long pause. She looks warily around, even far away from the compound, our words can still be heard and used against us. "But abandoning your assignment would mean losing everything. I doubt it would affect Chris or Will, but you would live as an outcast for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"

I sigh. I don't remember what it's like to live alone. I can only remember the wonderful chaos of being part of the Dauntless. _The right thing and the easy thing are never the same._ My mother's voice echoes in my head, and I start. I have not really thought of her for years. Suddenly, I feel a deep ache in my bones, a longing for the feeling of security and love that knows no boundaries.

"I'm going to tell him. He deserves to know. An eye for an eye. A secret for a secret." My laugh is bitter. I'm not looking forward to this job.

Susan's hand touches my shoulder. "I wish you the best of luck. You're going to need it."

* * *

Four looks at me, confusion written across his face. I must look frightful with my stress blush and messy hair. Christina and I are still not speaking, so I pulled it into a low bun that unraveled the second I jumped onto the train.

I pull him away from the busy street—no one can hear us. It could mean death for both of us. "I have something to say." I gasp. "I know you will hate me, and _I'm so, so sorry._"

He looks at me, bemused. "I don't understand. What are you sorry for?" Suddenly, I hear a loud crack, and I drag Tobias further away from the open space.

"Sorry, nerves." I say. My heart is pounding I don't want to imagine how he will react.

He shakes his head. "Please, explain. I'm confused."

"I really do like you, Tobias. I truly do—" Maybe he'll be more willing to listen if I just explain how much I didn't want to hurt him . . .

"Are you seeing someone else?"

His question makes me laugh. I think of Al with his clumsy advances and easy smiles. "I wish it was that easy."

Then, I can't think of anything to say. My mouth clamps shut and I look at the ground. "Tris, what is it?" His quiet voice isn't kind, but I can hear understanding in his tone.

The words explode out of me. ""I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Everything spiraled out of my control. Tori warned me that Max wasn't to be—" Another crack interrupts me. My shoulder begins to burn, and I glance down at the blood blooming on my shoulder. _Chris is going to be so angry that I wrecked the dress._ Tobias's mouth opens in horror as my knees give out. His arms wrap around me, and everything fades to black.

* * *

I wake up in a small, unfamiliar bed. I remember some things during my brief periods of consciousness—burning pain, Tobias's mouth on mine and his blue eyes, but everything else is blurry and distorted. My shoulder aches as I prop myself up. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness. Tobias slumps in a nearby chair, and his breathing is deep and even. With a grunt, I manage to slide out of the bed. It will take me a few days to recover from this wound, but frankly, I'm embarrassed that I passed out. The bullet wasn't meant to kill me, it was meant as a warning, and now I know that I'm a dead girl should I ever encounter another Dauntless. The penalty for going rogue is death.

I have to leave Tobias now. If I stay too close, the bullets and the poison and the knives meant for me might hit him instead. It's safer for me to watch over him from afar as I begin my life as an outcast. The thought is terrifying.

Somewhere in my sleep-muddled brain, I know that leaving a note to explain myself is a terrible idea, but I do it anyway. I leave it on the kitchen table because I don't want to see him again. It would be too hard.

As I leave, I recognize the townhouse that Christina and I used when Tobias came to bring me to the Fairfax's dinner. He must have realized that I lied. Again. And yet, he still helped me, and watched over me as I slept. Maybe he even kissed me, but I can't really tell if that was my imagination or if it was true.

The walk to Tori's is long and painful. When I finally reach her door, I collapse into her arms. After she sets me into a chair and hands me a cup of tea, I finally dare to look at her face. Her mouth is set in a grim line and her dark eyes are hard. "You have a bit of time." She says. "But soon your name will be on everyone's kill list. I hope he was worth it because you just failed your mission and cost the Dauntless a lot of money."

"Stolen money." I say miserably. "And Tobias was—is worth it."

"You'll never be able to see him again."

"I know. And I'm sorry for coming here. I just need some clothing before I leave."

"They will find you."

I shrug. "I've been with the Dauntless for years. If anyone knows their tricks for finding rogues, it's me." A bit of my former family's cockiness invades my voice, but it's true. Tori's lips twist into a wry smile as she hands me a bundle of black clothing. Of all the people I know, she's the one I trust the most. Her brother was in the same situation as I am. He's dead now.

I look down at the familiar colour. "That will make me stand out."

"It will help you blend in." She says, twisting my hair into a knot underneath a black cap.

I change into the clothes, gingerly pulling the cloth over my bandaged shoulder. "I have to say goodbye to Susan and Will and Al."

Tori doesn't argue—nothing will stop me anyway.

"Tris . . . if you ever need a place to stay . . ." Tori says uncomfortably. I nod because I understand her perfectly.

* * *

"I don't understand why you did it." Al shifts his weight and looks over my head anxiously. We're standing at the entrance to Millennium Park in the midday crowd, and I doubt that anyone will recognize me. "Since when was Four worth everything?"

"Since now." I readjust my cap. "Can you see Susan?"

"Yes, she's over by that bush." Will looks at me apologetically. "I'm sorry that Christina didn't come."

"She's still angry." I swallow around the lump in my throat. I miss her, but I'm glad that I can still say goodbye to the other people who matter to me.

He nods and I follow him through the crowd. A lady's parasol knocks of my cap, and I frantically search the ground until I find it. When I stand up I see that Susan isn't alone.

Tobias is still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair is messy like he forgot to brush it. I remember our kiss, and wonder if it really happened or if it was just another dream brought on by the pain. Will and Al push me forward, and Tobias looks at me. His mouth opens, and his eyes search mine. Anger fills them after a minute as he connects everything, and realizes the extent of my lies. I am Dauntless, and that is the one thing about my actions that he finds unforgivable.

He turns and stalks away.

Jamming my cap back on, I run after him.

* * *

**AN: An early update to make up for the late one! As you probably guessed, this is a retelling of Chapter 11 through Tris's eyes.**

**Over and out, **

**Wren**


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